


Hands

by Symph95



Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [4]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Touch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symph95/pseuds/Symph95
Summary: Akaashi had met many forms of touch in his life, but Bokuto's would always be the best.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Series: Bokuaka Week 2020 [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1860532
Kudos: 18
Collections: Bokuaka Week 2020





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Well hello there! This little diddy is sort of a challenge to myself so it's a little different my typical writing. I hope you enjoy!

The first hands Akaashi remembered on his body felt like home. Those long fingers held warmth and comfort as they brushed knots out of his hair. When he fell, they were there to pick him up and hold him and treat his wounds. They guided him through the first thirteen years of his life until they disappeared. 

Akaashi found them again, but they did not comb his hair or hold him or treat his wounds. They were cold. They didn’t move. But they were still home. He held them until they vanished. He spent years trying to find them again.

The next set of hands were calloused. Deep grooves from hours of a pen between them made them worn. They were a distant home, one he’d visit every now and then. Unlike the first set, these didn’t comb through his hair, nor hold him, nor treat his wounds. Instead they guided him. They taught him, pushed him, but supported him if he fell. They became his second home. They weren’t warm, but cozy; a place to stay after a long time away. And there always there within reach.

As Akaashi grew, he was greeted with more hands that had faces and names and meaning. Some were quick and melted away while others stuck and stayed close, barely brushing his skin. Others pulled him along, introducing him to new things like handlebars, volleyballs, and other hands that were said to be soft and comforting. He was told they were supposed to fit in his palms like a puzzle piece. 

But to Akaashi, they never did. The hands were delicate and brittle, far too hard to hold. They didn’t join his hands like they did in everyone else’s. They, instead, dug into his skin with their rough edges. He couldn’t hold on lest they break. So they were released and ignored. The hands tried to come back, they always did, saying his face was pretty and he should use it, but he turned away. His own hands became cold. 

Then there were the first hands that fit in his. They were rough, but sturdy. With a perfect weight and soft shape, Akaashi felt he could hold them forever. And so he pursued them. He followed them, squeezed them, and clasped them with all his strength, and they complied.

But they didn’t stay in Akaashi’s palms. Instead they explored, roaming over everything. It was the first time in years that Akaashi had hands in his hair, but they tangled it in knots. They move through his skin, alighting it in a way that Akaashi had never felt before.

But those hands ultimately pulled him down. They drowned his skin in ink to the point he couldn't recognize it. His reflection became someone else. Those hands, he realized, were wrong, sticky, and dirty. They were only looking to taint other’s skin. 

Finally, they stopped their exploration after they brushed another set of hands. There, they began to draw again

Akaashi rejected the hands that surrounded him, fearing the ink would grow darker than it already had. Hands became weapons, far too scary to be messed with.

One day Akaashi stumbled as he tried to get away from a pair of hands that were too grabby. Something caught him, something warm. It aided him upright and fixed the scrape on his knee with a bandaid. But it drew away before Akaashi could see it. 

He told himself not to pursue it, for last time made him dirty. But that warmth was so familiar. He longed to feel it again.

So he found that something again. Another hand, but one this time worn from years of practicing on it. It was rough, not soft, short, not long, but the warmth it produced was still there. Towards him, it outstretched to pull him by its side. 

Akaashi hesitated before allowing one hand, only one, to follow. There he learned its name, Bokuto. And he taught him; he showed him how to move the ball, showed him how to grab food and drinks for fun, and showed him how to stay in the embrace of others. Akaashi was led slowly through every new world.

When the second hand appeared, Akaashi pulled away. The commitment was too high, asking to join with someone again. So the other hand dropped while the first continued to aid him. Through loss, through victory, it supported him. It was friendly, tugging him this way and that, but never too hard that Akaashi couldn’t comfortably follow.

The warmth from the hand was always present, a glow in Akaashi’s life. When everything bore down on him pulling him under, it was still there to rescue him and pat his wounds and hardships.

But every candle flickers out and the hands were said to pull away soon. With it, warmth and healing.

Akaashi said he would hold on, but he knew doing so with one hand would be tough, no matter how many promises were given. So Akaashi accepted both hands.

Together, they glowed. The ink on Akaashi’s skin began to dissolve, but they still didn’t pursue the now clean expanse. Instead, they fed him, comforted him, and supported him. Every day those hands grew warmer and warmer.

As time went on, Bokuto asked if they wanted to go exploring together. His hands were cautious, not wanting to stain Akaashi’s skin. But, Akaashi agreed and slowly they made their way over his body. A couple times they stopped and restarted, but they followed each other. With the light they lit, they left a trail of warmth and love.

Years later the hands opened up and the two were bound. Warmth spread between them as they became one. As they, together, became Akaashi’s home. 

**Author's Note:**

> To people who write stories with less than 3000 words, how? To people who can write smut, how? You guys are insane holy heck. Well I hope you enjoyed this! See you soon and stay safe!


End file.
